


Sex, Drugs, Magic, and Rock & Roll

by La_Fandoma



Series: Constantine/Reader Fics [1]
Category: Constantine (Comic), Constantine (TV)
Genre: Bi-Curiosity, Blood and Gore, Bondage, Butt Plugs, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Gags, Light Dom/sub, Lots of Sex, Magic, Name-Calling, Oral Sex, Partial Muteness, Present Tense, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Harm, Sex Magic, Sex and Magic, Shameless Smut, Smut, Stitches, Swearing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Vibrators, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 03:41:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4813643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Fandoma/pseuds/La_Fandoma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John, an old more-than-a-friend, finds you on your kitchen floor, threatening suicide. He fixes you up and sexy shenanigans ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sex, Drugs, Magic, and Rock & Roll

**Author's Note:**

> I included the possible rape/non-con thing because I can see how some bits could be taken that way even if that wasn't the intended outcome.
> 
> Let me know if you want me to either continue this story or keep writing John/Reader smut.
> 
> Also, if self-harm makes you uncomfortable, just skip to the line break (--) about 18 paragraphs down.

Your watch beeps 2 AM from the floor where you discarded it. You’re so tired. You’re tired of running, of fighting, of seeing what lurks in the dark. You drag a razor down your arm, slicing deeply into the skin, slowly following the shape of your forearm until you stop halfway between the wrist and elbow. Red blood starts to blossom and slide down to your fingertips. Sitting on your kitchen floor, you let your arm drop and it starts to feel cold at the fingertips as the blood leaks out, forming a large puddle on the floor.

Suddenly, you hear your front door bang open and in the next instant, there are large, warm hands on you, pulling the razor from your dominant hand and holding your sliced arm above your heart to slow the bleeding. You smell alcohol and cigarettes and a familiar musk.

“Jesus Christ, (y/n)! What the hell are you doing?” a familiar Liverpudlian accent growls.

“Get away from me, Hellblazer. You’ve already ruined my life enough,” you reply, putting all the pieces together in your head.

“Nope. I’m not letting another one of my friends get sucked up by the darkness. I’m not letting you join my entourage of ghosts,” he says, coming around to your front, still gripping your sliced arm gently and holding it above your heart. He’s still smoking, half burnt Silk Cut hanging from the corner of his mouth, and you can smell whiskey on his breath.

“John Constantine, get your savior complex the fuck out of my house. I swear, I _will_ call the cops on you,” you threaten, pulling your phone out of your pocket with your free hand.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, luv.”

“Why not?” you ask, pausing with 9-1-1 dialed.

“Because if you call the cops, then they’ll take both of us away. Me to jail and you to the looney bin. And you’ll definitely be there longer than I’ll be in jail. At least a week, I reckon. So listen, let me sew you up and get you washed up and I’ll be gone. Promise.”

He is talking so smoothly and you aren’t sure if it’s the blood loss, but you’re almost completely sure that he isn’t lying this time. You nod as your vision starts to swim. He smirks and flicks his cigarette into the nearby sink where you hear it fizzle out as it hits something wet.

“Yeah, fine. Fix me up.”

He lifts you and moves you into the bathroom gently. He removes your shirt after placing you in the bathtub with your cut arm facing out and then pours warm water over your arm. He moves around the room and the adjacent hallway, gathering supplies and you smell the sharp antiseptic tang of rubbing alcohol.

“I’m sorry luv, this is gonna fucking hurt,” he mumbles, lifting your arm and holding it out from your body as he pours rubbing alcohol up and down your sliced arm. You shout and try to pull your arm away, but he’s gripping it too tightly, so you just whimper until he’s done pouring the alcohol over it.

He rinses it once more with warm water and then pulls out your suture kit from your first aid kit. Before he starts to suture it, you hear him flick his lighter. For a moment, you think he’s going to light up, which he does, but then you see him run the flame of the lighter down your wound, attempting to cauterize the blood vessels before he sews you up. It burns, but it’s no worse than the rubbing alcohol.

He rinses the leftover blood away with some more warm water and then starts to sew you up. You flinch every time the needle pierces your skin, but he’s done before you know it and he’s gently slapping your cheek, telling you to wake up.

You must’ve fallen asleep. You’re just so tired. You try to explain this to John, but your mouth just doesn’t want to cooperate and he just chuckles and shakes his head. He places some large wound care pads over your stitches and wraps your arm in gauze to hold them in place. He secures the gauze with some medical tape. He then picks you up again and carries you to your bed, where he lays you down, propping your arm up on a pillow. He leaves and you hear him in the bathroom, cleaning up the mess he made. The last thing you notice before you fall asleep is the smell of bleach and tobacco.

\--

You wake up the next morning, stiff and sore from not moving in the night. Your arm is throbbing dully. You feel a warm weight next to your hip and you sit up to see Constantine sitting in a chair, head resting on your bed. You shake him gently.

“John. John, wake up.”

He grumbles and opens his eyes, blinking at you in the morning light.

“Oh! (Y/n)! What am I still doing here?” he says.

“You’re just as confused as me,” you reply, swinging your legs off the side of the bed and standing.

_I’m not dizzy anymore,_ you think. _I must’ve not lost so much blood, then._

“You should be fine to walk. You only lost about a pint and a half of blood,” John says, as if reading your mind.

“That’s not so bad,” you reply, taking a few steps. “That’s like a blood donation and a half. Still, I’m a little weak.”

“You probably just need to eat something,” he replies. Still, he stands up and puts an arm around your waist to steady you. When you feel his skin brush against yours, you realize that you’re still just wearing your jeans from yesterday and a bra.

“John, I need a shirt,” you say, motioning to your torso.

“Oh, hm, yeah. Hold on.” He releases his hold on your waist and goes over to your closet. He pulls out a plain black v-neck t-shirt and tosses it to you. You catch it with your dominant hand and pull it on, gently over your bandages.

John then wraps his arm around your waist and you two walk into the kitchen.

He sits you down on a chair at the island and goes through your cabinets searching for food. As he does that, you look around, realizing that your kitchen is spotless. There isn’t even a sign that there was blood on the floor last night. He finds some eggs, which he fries up, and some frozen hashbrowns, which he cooks in the oven. When he’s done, he sets a plate in front of you, complete with hashbrowns, toast, and two fried eggs.

“Last I remember, all your cooking involved alcohol. By which I mean you were on a strictly liquid, alcohol-based diet. And now you can suddenly cook a full breakfast? How long have you been hiding that from me?” you ask.

“I had to learn how to make something to combat the hangovers,” he replies with a shrug. “And I haven’t been hiding anything from you. Four years ago you told me you never wanted to see me again and I heeded that request. Well, until now.”

“Yeah, until you somehow knew I was going to kill myself and just _had_ to come and save me. Let’s talk about that, actually.”

“Could we not? I don’t want to ruin this nice breakfast we’re having here.”

You both eat in silence for a few moments, until that nagging in the back of your brain overwhelms you and you just have to say something.

“No. No no no. Because I’m going to put it off and then you’ll leave and it’ll just be left hanging between us forever. Again,” you reply curtly. There’s a pause while he gathers his thoughts and finishes chewing.

“Okay, look. I found you because I have this psychic friend. Zed. She has visions. And she had a vision of you… And I didn’t want to lose another friend to this… This darkness that surrounds us - me. Hell, I’ve already lost Ritchie and Gaz. I’ve technically killed Chas several times. Several others you don’t know, too,” he says, staring at his plate.

“Shit, John,” you mumble, considering the weight of what he just said. “You consider me a friend?”

He chuckles and looks up at you. “Of course I do, (y/n). What did you think I thought of you?”

“I figured I was just some fangirl roadie fling to you, honestly. Either that or some cheap ritual sex whore. I had no idea you actually cared about me. But now that I know that, I can actually tell you that Mucous Membrane was shit.”

“Oh, you think I don’t know that?” John replies, smirking. “It was fun though.”

You snort and stand to move your now empty dish to the sink.

“How’re you feeling?” John asks. “Still dizzy or weak?”

“No, I think I’m alright,” you reply, rinsing the dish and your fork and putting it in the dishwasher. You turn around and lean against the sink, facing him. “Look, I’m sorry about last night. About threatening to call the cops. Just, after last time, with the demon, I didn’t think I could trust you again. I’m honestly still not sure I can trust you. But you’ve got this smooth talking conman thing going on now and part of me is saying that I can trust you and part of me is saying that I can’t and I don’t know what to do.”

“Alright, listen. About the demon, I assumed you were a strong enough magus to handle it and I was wrong and, again, I’m sorry. And to be honest, I’ve got a case around here. Chas and Zed are coming around in a few days. You’ve got until then to figure out whether or not you trust me because I’d really like your help on this case. It’s right up your alley. We’re hunting Satanists and the monsters they’ve been summoning,” he explains.

“Well I trust you enough to let Chas and this Zed stay in my house if that’s what you mean. It’s never your friends that are trouble, just you. And I know Chas. He wouldn’t cause any unnecessary trouble. And I kind of owe this Zed woman my life at the moment. So I guess I’d say that I trust them more than I trust you,” you say, partly joking about not trusting him.

“Ouch. That hurts, (y/n). Really, truly hurts,” John replies. He sounds hurt, but you know he’s at least partly joking due to the big, dumb smirk on his face. You get the overwhelming urge to wipe that smirk off his face either with a kiss or a slap. You cross the kitchen to stand across the island from him.

“Oh, fuck you, John,” you say, smacking him on the arm.

“You already have, luv. Several times.”

“Mmm. I know. And I’d like to again,” you muse. It’s your turn to smirk because by the shocked look on his face, he clearly wasn’t expecting that. You shrug. “It’s not like I can anyways. Not with these stitches.”

“Well why not? The chance of you ripping them is very slim, but if you’d like, I can superglue the wound shut instead,” he replies.

“No, it’s fine. I’m just trying to talk myself out of sleeping with you. I don’t want to be another one of your mistakes.”

“You were never a mistake, luv. And you won’t be now. Promise.”

“The last time you promised me something, you promised that you’d fix me up and leave. And you’re still here,” you scoff.

“And aren’t you glad I am?” he asks, looking at you through his eyelashes.

“Look, if you’re done with your plate, could you put it in the dishwasher?” you reply, walking out of the kitchen, towards the living room.

He rinses his plate off and puts it in the dishwasher and then follows you out to the living room. He looks around for a moment, but doesn’t see you. That is, until you come out from around the corner, grab him roughly by his shirt, and shove him against the wall.

“Oh, this is how it’s going to be, then, (y/n)?” he asks, a smirk turning up the corner of his lips.

“Shut up, Hellblazer,” you reply before crashing your lips into his. The kiss is sloppy and needy and angry and he tastes like smoke and breakfast. As you break away for air, you bite his lip. He scrapes his teeth down your neck and you let out a sigh as he reaches the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder. You pull sharply on his ruddy blond hair and in response, he bites down hard on your neck with a growl. He brings his hands up to roughly grab your ass and you respond by rocking your hips into him, rubbing against his growing erection. You remove his tie and unbutton and remove his shirt. You let the shirt fall to the floor, but hold the tie in your hand for later. He gasps as you bite down hard on the tattoo on his right shoulder, leaving a red ring of teeth impressions as you pull away. You bite down again, in a slightly different spot, yanking on his hair again as you do. He moans and nibbles your ear.

“Fuck me, (y/n),” John growls into your ear. You pull away slightly and then press your lips to his again, only breaking the kiss momentarily to pull off your shirt. You discard the shirt on the floor and John dexterously unclasps and removes your bra, letting it fall to the floor between you. He spins the two of you so that your back is against the wall and starts working his mouth from your lips to your breasts, licking, kissing, and biting all the way down. He sucks your right nipple into his mouth and rolls his tongue around it while he pinches the left one between his fingers, causing a warm tingling sensation to travel down and settle in your core. You let out a whimper as he gently bites down on the nipple in his mouth.

“Oh, fuck, John,” you pant as he switches sides. Your hips jerk, trying to get some sort of friction between your legs, but he grabs your hip with his free hand and pushes it back against the wall. You reach between the two of you with your hand that isn’t holding his tie and slip it down his pants. You begin lazily stroking up and down his shaft with varying speed and tightness. Every once in a while, you run a finger over the precome gathering at the tip, causing his breath to catch in his chest. You remove your hand from his pants after a while and spin the two of you again. You then push off of the wall, untangle yourself from his arms, and walk towards your bedroom. Halfway there, you pause and remove your jeans, bending at the waist, wiggling out of them and putting on a show. At the doorway to your room, you remove your underwear the same way. John follows suit, removing the rest of his clothing as he enters the room. He finds you sitting on the bed with your legs crossed, holding your black drawstring bag of sex toys in your lap.

“Ah, yes, my old friends,” Jon says, coming to sit beside you, cock sitting heavy in his lap.

“How do you want to do this?” you ask, fiddling with the drawstring. He gently pulls the bag from your hands and dumps the contents onto your bed. He picks out a black vibrating butt plug for him and a fingertip vibe for you and places them next to his tie. He cocks his head and arches an eyebrow, as if to ask if this works for you. You shrug. “I really wanted to fuck you with my new strap on, but that can wait for round 2.”

There’s a pause while he thinks about why you would need a strap on, but when it clicks, he exhales with a soft ‘oh’. You clean up the toys that you’re not going to use and put them on your bedside table. You pull out some lube and place it next to the other items

“Wait, so, you’re…” he trails off, not wanting to put words in your mouth. You nod. “Okay.”  
He kisses you, hard, and eases you back onto the bed while you’re kissing. He runs his hands down your sides and slips a hand between your legs, not touching, just teasing. He nudges your legs apart with his knee. You try to thrust into his hand, seeking friction once again, but to no avail. You whimper into his mouth and he breaks the kiss. He takes his tie, knots it gently around the headboard and slips the loop around your hands.

“You’re such a fucking tease, Constantine,” you manage as he starts licking, biting, and kissing his way down to your breasts.

He bites and sucks at the soft flesh there, avoiding your nipples and trying to bruise you and claim you. You arch your back into him and he wraps his arms around your back, holding you like that for a moment before he starts to work his way down between your legs. Settling between your spread legs, he hooks your legs over his shoulders and kisses up and down your thighs, stubble ghosting over the sensitive skin. He plants a single kiss on your hypersensitive clit and you practically jump out of your skin.

“A-ah! Shit!” you whine as John licks up and down your slit before slipping a finger into you.

“What a good girl,” he says, looking up at you. “You’re already so wet for me.” He sucks hard on your clit for a moment and then looks up at you again with a smirk. “You’re always so wet for me.” If your hands had been free, you’d have smacked him for that (despite how true it may be), but they aren’t, so you’ll have to get him back for it later. He continues teasing you by slowly thrusting his finger into you while he alternates licking and sucking your clit. He adds another finger and you groan as he pushes it into you. He keeps switching up what he’s doing with his mouth, licking one way, then another, then sucking. He’s just having fun watching you unravel in front of him as you turn into a sweaty, moaning, begging mess. He keeps bringing you right to the edge and then backing off. After the third time, you start to get fed up.

“John? John please. Please, just let me—” your words are cut off by a moan as he adds a third finger inside you. “Fuck, Constantine. Just let –” he cuts you off again as he sucks hard on your clit while he runs his tongue over it.

“Let you what, luv?” he asks, with that stupid smirk on his face. You know he won’t let you come until you beg for it, but he’s not letting you say the words. He’s stilled his movements in order to let you talk, but he’s still pressing a finger into your g-spot, continuing to tease you.

“Please, John, let me come. I’m begging you. You’re killing me here,” you whine.  
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he smirks, going back to sucking on your clit. He works his fingers and tongue expertly, bringing you to the edge again. You feel the heat pooling in your abdomen as it seems like all your muscles tighten. A few more thrusts of his fingers and a few more licks from his tongue and you’re shaking and moaning, your walls clenching around his fingers. He pushes you through your orgasm and slowly removes his fingers when your breathing slows.

He plants a final kiss on your clit, causing you to gasp, before he moves back up your body and kisses you on the lips. You taste your fluids on his lips as he kisses you and you’re so distracted by the kiss that you don’t notice him untying your hands. He breaks the kiss and you notice your new freedom. Rolling over so that you’re on top, you bind his hands with the tie.

“I need to get you back for that ‘I’m always wet for you’ comment from earlier,” you explain, not that you really need to.

“I was expecting this to be a battle for dominance anyways, luv. It always is with us, isn’t it?” he replies. The question is rhetorical, but you nod regardless. You dip your head down and bite at John’s neck, nibbling your way up to his ear.

“I’m gonna make you beg for me, Hellblazer,” you growl softly into his ear. His hips buck up into you involuntarily, his rock hard member pressing into you. You work your way down his body, kissing and biting as you go. You settle between his legs and reach for the bottle of lube.

You lube up your first two fingers and gently push one into his opening. It's tight, but you start to move a bit, flexing your finger and gently thrusting it in and out. He starts moaning and even though you just came, you're already wet again. You slip the second finger into him and feel around for that one spot, about two knuckles in, that drives him crazy. You hear his breath hitch, and then come out in a whine and you know you've found it. His moaning and gasping and pleading is causing more heat to pool between your thighs. As if to return the favor, you press down on that spot with your two fingers and take his heavy length into your free hand and then into your mouth. His breath comes out in sputtering gasps as you swirl your tongue around his tip, tasting the generous amounts of precome settled there. You suck, hard, verging on the edge of painful for a moment and then start bobbing your head up and down in time with your fingers stroking that spot inside him.

 

"Oh... Fuck..." He pants, breathless, as he starts thrusting into your mouth. Using the arm attached to the hand holding his dick, you bear down on his hip so he can't move.

 

"Now, come on, John," you say, removing his length from your mouth. "You know the rules. Stay still."

 

He nods weakly, forehead gleaming with sweat, and you continue with what you were doing. After a short while, you hear him mumbling incoherently and stringing swears together.

 

_That's one of his tells,_ you think. _He's getting close._

 

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckshitfucktits... Feels so good, (y/n). Keep this up, won't be able to wait," he mumbles. And sure enough, a couple minutes later, after a particularly rough thrust on his sweet spot sends him over the edge, he groans out an orgasm and his heat fills your mouth, dripping back down on him before you can even swallow as he clenches around your fingers. You don't stop until he's ridden out his orgasm, but when he has, you gently dislodge your fingers from him and his dick from your mouth. You clean yourself up and lick him clean before moving to lie beside him and untie his hands. He's panting, still and there's a soft sheen of sweat over his body.

 

John kisses you, hard, tasting himself on your lips and tongue. By the eagerness of the kiss, you know he's far from sated, in fact, he gets even more eager as the kiss goes on. He rolls you onto your back and presses down onto you, immobilizing you. He moves his lips to your ear and nibbles on your earlobe.

 

"That was one of the best orgasms I've had in a long time," he growls. "Unfortunately for you, it's only made me hornier." To prove his point, he bites down, fairly hard, on your neck and then sucks, hard, on the same spot. When he moves away, it's already begun to bruise.

 

"Well then, Johnny boy, how do you want me?" You ask with an audible smirk, almost as if you were issuing a challenge.

 

"Every way, everywhere in this bloody house. But to start, get on your hands and knees." He sits back on his haunches to let you maneuver, but before he moves back to meet you, he catches a glimpse of the toys that were left sitting out earlier. He picks up the buttplug and lubes it up. He considers it for a moment and you're almost certain he's going to push it into you, but then he lines it up with his own hole and pushes it in with a groan. 

The response that that causes in your groin makes you wonder if you'd like to see him masturbate sometime, but those thoughts are pushed out of your head as he lines himself up with you. He places a hand on your hip and guides his tip into your slippery, wet entrance with the other. When he's about a third of the way in, he moves his other hand to your hip and thrusts into you, hard and almost painfully, the rest of the way. That motion rips a groan from both of your lips and he lets you settle and stretch a bit before setting a deep and fast rhythm.

Keeping a hand on your hip, he moves the other to your (y/hc) hair and pulls sharply on it before trailing his hand down to your breasts. He spends some time there, fondling them and pulling on your nipples before moving to your clit. After a few moments of stroking you there, he reaches to his side.

When his hand returns to your clit, his fingertip feels cold and bumpy and you know he’s slipped on the vibrator. He rubs it around your clit for a while before turning it on, but you still gasp when he does. He doesn’t move it around after he turns it on, instead opting to vary the pressure he uses from barely there to almost painful. The new assault of sensation forces an orgasm out of you after a few more thrusts and you come with a moan so loud you’re sure the neighbors heard. Moving the arm on your waist to in between your breasts, he pulls your torso up to him so that your back is against his chest.

“You came so quickly for me, (y/n)” he growls, breath hot against your ear. “Not loud enough though. This time, I want you to scream my name so loud the whole block can hear. D’you understand?”

You whimper and nod shakily, still coming down from your orgasm, but that answer apparently isn’t good enough for him. He stops thrusting and switches off the vibrator. He grabs a handful of your hair in one hand and a handful of your ass in the other. He pulls your hair sharply and you feel his short fingernails biting into your ass cheek.

“ **_I asked you if you understood me, you little slut._** ” His voice reverberates at the same level as when he’s doing an incantation and you suddenly feel butterflies spring to life in your stomach. He rarely gets this dominant and aggressive, enough to use magic or threaten to do so, but when he has in the past, you’ve gotten some of the best orgasms of your life. Despite his mood, you decide to test him.

“I was wondering how long it’d take you to call me names, Hellblazer. What’re you gonna do now? Tie me up again? Immobilize me with magic? That’s not very original.” 

“I’m considering gagging you so you can’t mouth off to me again,” he replies, smacking your ass, “but I’ve got a spell that can do that for me.” He moves the hand in your hair to gently cup your mouth and the other so that it wraps around your waist. “The only issue is that it’ll shut you up too well and I do love those noises you make.” To punctuate the sentence, he pulls himself almost completely out of you and then thrusts back into you hard. You let out a surprised yelp that turns into moans as he continues thrusting like that.  
“Oh, John, don’t stop,” you beg against his hand. “Feels too good.”

And, of course, he stops.

“Fucking bastard,” you grumble. You’re about to complain more, but then you feel that familiar tug of magic in your stomach again. You realize that he’s using the energy from your combined pleasure to do something and you find that mildly concerning. You feel his hands getting warm against your skin and you start to worry. Dominant John plus one-sided sex magic tends to end with you either silenced or immobilized or both and while that’s fun for both of you, that means that you can’t tease the magus as much as you would like.

“ **_Ab mento ad digitos mutum silentium fit praeter voluptatem et dolorem et murmurationis crepitu meo,_** “ he rasps out, removing his hand from your mouth after the air pops slightly, signifying that the spell is complete.

You open your mouth to speak, but find no sound coming out when you do. You blink, confused, but when you translate the Latin in your head, it all makes sense. 

He switches the finger vibe back on and presses it to your clit once again. You buck your hips against him and moan, surprised when the sound comes out.

“Well would you look at that, luv? It worked,” he replies, his tone much less harsh than a few moments ago, as he starts up a rhythm with his thrusting again. On top of the onslaught of sensations he’s causing in your groin, he also starts to bite your neck and fondle your breasts.

He brings you to a third orgasm quickly and expertly after lubing up the finger vibrator with your juices and you come with another loud moan. John is panting and moaning now, but he’s not quite close yet. His thrusting gets more forceful and he starts sucking on your neck as well as biting it.

“Listen, luv. You and I know that I could keep at this all day. So I’m gonna make you come as many times as necessary until you’re screaming my name,” he whispers into your ear, pushing the finger vibe into your clit as hard as he can.

You gasp and yelp, wrapping an arm behind his head and pulling his hair to steady yourself. Your legs are already shaking and you’re about ready to collapse, but he holds you as another orgasm rocks through you. You find yourself screaming his name as you come even though you would’ve liked to drag it out a bit more until he got desperate. Still, you’re panting and shaking as you come down from your high and he releases his hold on you, lowering you onto your elbows on the bed.

“See, now, was that so hard?” he asks, still fully aware of the fact that you can’t reply. He switches off the finger vibrator, but turns on the vibe in the buttplug. He moans when the vibrations take effect and his thrusts become slightly erratic.

He grips your waist again, using your body as leverage, and you’re acutely aware of the fact that now he’s only doing this for his own pleasure and not yours. You know that he assumes that you’re much too tired for another orgasm anyways (as far as he knows, your record is four because that’s the most you’d ever had with him before you kicked him out of your life) and that he’s been focusing on you for most of the time and deserves to focus on himself. Still, you feel that warmth pooling in your abdomen for a fifth time as he thrusts away.

You let out a moan and his thrust stutters; he’s confused. You smirk because he wasn’t expecting that, but he just starts thrusting harder, causing you to moan even more. He pants out some more Latin, releasing you from the spell’s effects right before he starts mumbling swears.

“Come on, John. Fuck me like you mean it,” you prompt, egging him on. “Come for me, Hellblazer. Fill me up.” Each sentence is punctuated and broken up by your gasps and moans as you get closer to coming again. His pace speeds up and you tip over the edge, moaning his name and stringing together curses. Your walls tightening around him send him over the edge too and he blows his white hot load into you with a final moan. He stops thrusting, so you start moving your hips gently and slowly, riding him through his orgasm as you feel your combined juices dripping down your legs.

When his member stops twitching, he gently pulls out of you and you collapse onto the bed. He’s panting and exhausted, but still finds the energy to grab a towel and clean the two of you up. You roll over onto your back with a groan and stretch as he flops down beside you.

“So what was that about not wanting me to stay?” John asks with a smirk.


End file.
